You Never Forget Your First Love
by rosieloves23
Summary: One shot. Nathan remembering his history with Peyton as she gets married... to someone else.


**Don't really know where this came from but... i felt in an NP kinda mood. anyway, one shot, Nate's perspective... if you like do please let me know.**

He had never imagined this was how it would end. That instead of waiting for her at the end of the aisle he was actually the one leading her up it. He never thought he'd be the one giving her away.

It doesn't take him long to start thinking about the first time he ever laid eyes on her, all crazy golden curls and beautiful green eyes narrowed at him; spitting venom over the pile of books he had managed to knock into her as they collided in the corridor. They had been so young but god she was feisty even then. Her eyes scream with scorn as she picks up the math book and drops it on the pile he's gathering together, "watch it moron," she mutters before striding on.

She squeezes his arm now and he can feel her nerves mounting as they make their way up the short church aisle. It doesn't feel right, but he can't ever make it right now. All he can do is gently kiss her hand and carry on walking, eyes staring straight ahead.

The first time he spoke actual words to her that weren't a mumbled, mortified apology are not much better. "_Have you got an eraser I can borrow?_" Damn smooth Scott. Her eyes are amused this time and she flicks it over at him sharply. He catches it without thinking. This time as she looks away he could have sworn he saw a flash of admiration streak across her face. And just like that he's hooked, he'll do anything to impress her.

He's tempted to sink his feet into the ground and not take the final steps up towards the waiting party. But he's the best man and the guy bringing the bride in and he doesn't think it would make much sense to anyone else to look reluctant. Still. He feels it. He feels the pain and the panic like it's something stuck in his throat. He feels his breathing quicken and his heart pound and for a second he can't, he just can't.

He feels inordinately tongue tied as he stands staring at his feet in the empty gym. Empty that is, except for the beautiful creature sitting on the top bench with her head in a sketch pad. As he climbs the bleachers he realises his feet are heavy and he's breathing way too hard for the short journey to the top. When his shadow falls across her paper she glances up and meets his eye with mild interest; a giant step forward for them and he takes heart from it. "Wanttogooutwithmesometime?"

Maybe if he suddenly fakes a heart attack they'll have to stop the ceremony and he'll have one more day where it doesn't feel like the world is being ripped from beneath his feet. He feels like maybe he's having one anyway; his hands are sweaty and he can feel perspiration dripping down his back and forehead. "Are you dying on me Scott?" she whispers in concern and her breath so close to his ear almost stops his heart right there.

He manages to make her laugh and for those ten long and wondrous seconds his whole world is complete. He doesn't need anything else except for the green eyes crinkled up in amusement, the strange hiccoughing sound she makes when she's done and the warmth he feels seep up his arm when he realises she's caught his hand and wrapped her fingers in his. They're sitting in a non descript cafe that he will never be able to walk past again without seeing the younger versions of themselves, only ghosts in his head now, sitting in the window, laughing and holding hands like they're the only two people in the world. Perhaps they were. He can't remember anyone but her from that night.

Taking a breath he lifts her veil and wishes for a second he was blind; just so that he didn't have to look at her face, shining with love and excitement and a flutter of nerves. Forget ever needing to watch Saw or Texas Chainsaw Massacre ever again- his heart will jump every time he ever thinks about this moment.

The first time they fight he doesn't realise what he's done wrong. His dad always told him that women were around purely for _their_ pleasure. He doesn't know why she won't pick up the phone and for days afterwards he resents her without knowing why. He hates being thought of as stupid and inadequate and that's how he felt. He gives in eventually and turns up on her doorstep with a bunch of chrysanthemums that he knows she loves. She forgives him almost immediately, like she's glad he's turned up on her doorstep and he works out in the months to come that that's all he needs to do to get her to forgive any crime; always come back.

His mouth is dry and he's not really listening to the words being said. If he wants to speak up he knows now is the time but what the hell do you say after all these years? How do you ask for a second chance when you've had a hundred before and let them all slip through your fingers? How do you give up a life so carefully built around a rejection that broke you so completely you forgot how to love properly? Only she makes him feel complete and yet here she is, unknowingly tearing him apart. How can she not feel him breaking up beside her?

He fell in love with her over the tiny details. The fact she takes an hour to read a book, twenty minutes to be ready for a party, three minutes to finish a chocolate milkshake and twenty seconds to decide if she likes somebody or not. The trust takes longer than all those things put together and yet somehow, he earned it. And then threw it away. But he loved her. They were arguing fiercely before a game one day. He'd busted his wrist the week before and she didn't want him to play and he'd been furious at her when she was only trying to look after him. "You're a dumbass Scott," she had shouted, storming away, tossing her pom poms to one side. "Yeah well I bloody love you so I guess you're stuck with me Sawyer." She had come back to him and they had fallen against the lockers and for the first time in his life he'd chosen something over basketball, _someone_, and he hadn't gone into the gym at all that night.

He's always been bad at holding grudges and yet as he looks over at the man repeating vows and promising to love and cherish 'till the day he dies, he finds he just can't bring himself to hate him for this. It was his own doing after all. His and hers. They had pushed and pulled and felt the fire and passion and it had burnt too brightly for either of them to handle so they'd dropped it. Two emotionally stunted kids unable to deal with serious emotions had run as far away from each other as possible. And Lucas had come in like clear still waters and reeled her in, soothed her soul, dimmed her light.

The end takes forever to come. There are so many fights and so many reunions he forgets when they're apart and when they're together. Girls fall at his feet and they worship him and it takes all his self control not to give in to them. But she's so angry and hostile all the time- like the girls are his fault. And eventually he doesn't care. He doesn't care if she gets hurt because he's hurting too. The faceless girls take away the pain. They make him feel good and worthy for all of ten seconds. But they don't make him feel alive. He always ends up on her doorstep, praying he hasn't gone that step too far. That she'll make him feel alive for just on more minute. In the end he isn't the one to push her over the edge. It's his brother. He should have seen it coming, should have fought harder for her. Hell if he knew now he'd never stand on her doorstep again, asking for her to come back to him he'd do everything so differently. But he'd been proud and she'd been so hurt. And he'd never stood in front of her door again with stupid flowers that only Sawyer liked. He had broken her for a little while and in return she had broken him for life.

She's throwing her arms around his neck happily and he can't help but take a second to breathe her in, the last time he'll ever allow himself to be this close. He clutches her back tightly, suddenly unwilling to let go and feels a desperation build inside, "love you Sawyer," he mumbles into her hair. She pulls back, smiling brightly, "love you too Scott." And just like that it's over. He can't breathe, can't see properly, can't move from the last place he'll ever hug her. She's moving into the crowd to hug Brooke, to be kissed by his own wife and he feels like the worst person in the world but he doesn't care. This is it. From this day forth he'll never allow himself to remember. The ghosts in the window and by the lockers and in his car listening to her damn awful music and everywhere else in between will be locked up and stored away for his last days on earth. Now she is Mrs Peyton Scott and it's all his fault that she hasn't stayed Peyton Sawyer, the girl he fell in love with when he was just a kid with a basketball and an eraser she gave him and he kept.

NP


End file.
